


carry on.

by Half



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half/pseuds/Half
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, love can get you through.





	carry on.

Deputy Nicole Haught had been shot many times in her life.

They were all from paintballs, but they still absolutely hurt like hell.

It would be easy, she had thought once, to take a bullet in the vest. Hurt, sure. But she had taken pain before. Broken ribs. Bruises. Paintball shots to the gut.

She had been certain that, vest on, a bullet wouldn't be too bad.

But of course, just like always, she was wrong. That was always her trap, it seemed. She was brilliant at puzzles, at finding the questions that needed to be asked, at piecing together the problem.

And then, when it mattered most, she’d fail.

She was pretty sure that blood hadn't always looked this bright. A red splatter on her fingers that looked artificial. Fraudulent.

Maybe she hadn't been shot at all.

Maybe she was still at home, in bed with the love of her life, waiting for the alarm to go off and send her out to work with little more than a coffee and a kiss. If Nicole were given the chance to pick a scenario, that would be it.

She isn't lying on a slab of concrete, a bullet in her vest, another in her arm, one more in her hip, watching as her blood leaks out and stains around her.

She’s underneath an ungodly amount of blankets, safe and comfortable and whole.

It’s nice to dream.

Footsteps approach her, walk right over her, and continue on their way, completely ignoring the grunt of pain and shock that escapes her lips. She’s meaningless to them.

She always has been.

“I need your help,” Aidan had begged her the night before. “We need to get Mom out of that house. Please, Nic. You have to help.”

“He isn't going to let her leave, A,” Nicole had said. “He won't allow it.”

“That’s why we need you. You’re a cop. He has to listen to you now.”

Listening had gone better than Nicole had honestly expected.

She hadn't gotten shot in the head, at least.

The footsteps approached her again, this time kicking her hard in the side. “Aren't you dead yet? What’s taking you so long? Christ. Your fucking brother gave out an hour ago.”

The words sink in but don't register, and Nicole doesn't want them to. She can't let them. All she can focus on is the soft thumping in her ears that lets her know her heart is still beating.

She squeezes her eyes closed just a little and tries to distance herself from the pain.

Finds herself in a completely different universe.

With a completely different set of footsteps crouching next to her.

“It’s okay, baby,” Waverly murmurs, brushing Nicole’s hair off of her sweat stained forehead. “You’re going to be fine. You can stay with me through this, can't you?”

“Can't,” Nicole breathes, the pain in her lower chest throbbing.

“I didn't take you for a quitter, Nicky. Aren't you the one who doesn't give in? Certainly not like this.”

“M’tired.”

Waverly smacks Nicole’s cheek, harder than would be expected but soft enough to show she still cares. “Wake the hell up, Haught. We still have a lot of life to get through. You aren't getting out of it that easily. What about our wedding? Our yard full of dogs? Our unnecessary pile of kids? I can't have that with you if you give in right here.”

“Please, Waverly,” Nicole mumbles. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”

Waverly strokes Nicole’s cheek and kisses her temple. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” She tugs at Nicole’s uniform to straighten it despite the blood. “Hey. Talk to me. Tell me about this. What’s happening?”

“Just wanted to get Mom out,” Nicole whispers. “She wants a divorce. But she… she’s scared of Dad. We all are.”

“Why?”

“He beat us. All of us, whenever he felt like it. When we acted, out he’d line us up against the fence in the backyard and shoot us with a paintball gun.” Her voice quivers. “Being with you was the first true feeling of freedom and control I had had in my life since the moment I was born. You make me brave, Waverly Earp.”

“We make each other brave.”

Nicole’s breathing slips, dropping even shallower. “I can't keep this up, Waves. I can't do it.”

“It’s okay,” Waverly hisses, directly into Nicole’s ear. They can hear sirens getting closer. “Only a few minutes more and it won't be in your hands anymore, darling.”

Nicole hears cop speak. Yelling. Then she blinks, and Waverly is gone, and there’s a patrol officer crouching over her, looking terrified.

She hears a voice scream that there’s an officer down. Then there is nothing left to her but the darkness.

 

She sees bright white, but she knows it’s just the light of the operating room.

She’ll sleep for a while longer.

It’s nothing special compared to Waverly Earp.

 

The next time she wakes up, it’s because her hip is killing her. Pain shuddering through her, vibrating the wound in her arm and setting that off too, making her damaged ribs quake.

All she can do is moan softly, struggle to try to change her position, whine as a nurse scolds her and pushes her still.

“I know it hurts, Deputy Haught,” she says gently. “But you can’t get any more meds just yet. Okay?”

“Waverly,” Nicole whispers.

“What?”

“Waverly…”

The nurse pats her hand. “How about I go get the doctor?”

 

“Waverly...”

“Sorry, kid, I think you’re confused. I’m not nearly pretty enough.”

Nicole opens her eyes slowly, her brow furrowing. “Oh… Hey, Sh-Sheriff…”

Randy Nedley leans down a bit, his voice quiet and gentle. “Don’t scare me like that again, Haught.”

He gets a weary nod in response, then Nicole whispers, “My brother. My mom.”

Nedley fidgets with his uniform as if he were a schoolboy wearing a tie for the first time.

“Sheriff, please.”

“Uhm.” He sighs and bows his head. “Nicole, I’m sorry…”

 

She feels fingertips brush across her forehead, and Waverly’s voice murmurs, “Hi, baby.”

“Waverly,” Nicole says in half a sob.

“Shh shh shh.” Waverly presses a kiss to Nicole’s temple. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

“They told me… girlfriends weren’t… qualified visitors…”

“Nedley can be persuasive.” Waverly sits on the edge of Nicole’s bed, linking their fingers. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m… at fault for.. all of this.”

“Never,” Waverly insists immediately. “Never, Nicole. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just trying to help.”

“Should’ve… expected it.”

“Oh, baby… No one should’ve expected this.”

Nicole shifts as much as she can in the bed, swallows, and meets Waverly’s gaze. “Need a… favor.”

“Anything.”

“I don’t want… Hayley to… be alone at the funeral.”

Waverly kisses her cheek with such softness that Nicole almost doesn’t feel it. “Don’t worry. She won’t be. I promise.”

 

She’s brought home in a wheelchair, unable to use crutches because of the bullet that shattered her arm.

It only makes her feel more useless.

“Hayley wants to come over and see you,” Waverly says, stroking Nicole’s hair after helping her into their living room recliner. “She couldn’t get off work to come during hospital visitation hours.”

“She should stay away,” Nicole mumbles, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not worth-”

“She lost her mother and her brother,” Waverly interrupts sharply. “And her father is going to prison. She wants to be with her sister. She needs this, Nicole, and so do you.”

Nicole turns her head to the side, looking as far away from Waverly as she can manage. “Whatever you want.”

 

“You have to start putting weight on that leg.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Nicole Haught, get out of that chair.”

“I’m tired.”

“I will _drag you_ out of that goddamn chair if I have to.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

_“Don’t tempt me.”_

Nicole pouts. “Can’t I just take a nap?”

“No,” Waverly says, after a pause that says the pout was working. “The doctor said to get some exercise started. Which means _up_.”

“ _Fiiiiiiiiiiine._ But I’m doing this under severe protest.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

Nicole stands up carefully and wobbles, putting her hand on Waverly’s shoulder for support. “See? Look. Now can I sleep?”

“Nope,” Waverly replies, popping the _p_ and smirking. “You’re up now. You should walk around.”

Nicole whines and leans against her. “You’re the devil.”

“Maybe, but at least I love you.”

“Prove it, then,” Nicole mutters, burying her face in Waverly’s hair.

“That’s what I’m doing by getting you up like this, jackass.”

“Mm. I doubt I’ll recognize that for at least a year.”

Waverly chuckles and gently starts pulling Nicole forward. “That’s okay. I understand.”

 

The first night they lie in bed together again, Waverly traces the scar in Nicole’s bicep and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me, Nic?”

“Tell you what?”

“What you were doing that day. Where you were going.” She pauses. “What your father was really like.”

“I don’t know,” Nicole admits. “I guess I assumed you’d see me differently. Think less of me. I’m a cop, goddammit, and I was _weak_. I was afraid of talking to a bitter old man.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I was afraid, and he still got the best of me.”

“Honey, you’re allowed to be afraid. And fear is allowed to distract you.”

“But I’m supposed to be _better than that_.”

Waverly gives a soft smile and presses a kiss to the corner of Nicole’s mouth. “Nobody is better than that, baby.”

 

“You can walk faster than that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Look at me! I have tiny legs and I’m _waaaaay_ ahead of you!”

Nicole grunts and rubs at her mouth with the three center fingers of her hand.

“ _What_ was that, Deputy Haught?”

“I did nothing. Technically _absolutely nothing at all_ has happened.”

Waverly jogs back to her and yanks on the collar of her shirt, pulling her down to kiss her hard on the mouth. “You’re lucky I love you, jackass.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve known that for a while.”

 

The nightmare comes in bursts of pain and flashes of panic.

She can see it all. Feel it again.

The look of desperation on her brother’s face engraved in her memory, immortalized in the darkness of sleep.

Waverly wakes her up in the middle of her sobs, whispers soothing comfort into the night.

She holds Nicole until the morning comes.

 

“I have no interest in going to that trial,” Nicole says, growling at her Frosted Flakes.

“You don’t have to,” Waverly replies. “But you might regret it later. The chance to represent the people he hurt. Represent your family.”

“He was supposed to be my family, too.”

“Yes. He was. And he lost the right to call himself that when you were six years old and he shot you in the back with a paintball gun because you tripped into a dollar store vase and broke it.”

Nicole runs a hand over her face and shudders. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Let’s go.”

 

“I should get a dog,” Waverly calls, jogging backwards. “It could keep up with me better.”

“Fuck off,” Nicole shouts back, then immediately covers her mouth in embarrassment when a woman with a toddler shoots her a nasty look.

Waverly almost falls over laughing.

“That was smooth, Haught. That was _so smooth_.”

 

Nicole rages around their kitchen, trying not to lose her temper and start smashing plates. “I can’t believe he would do this. Actually, I can. But _seriously_?”

“Nobody is going to buy it, Nic,” Waverly says, staying out of her way and letting her pace. “The bullets from _his_ gun were in you and Aiden and your mom. And he didn’t have a mark on him. No one on this earth would ever believe that he shot you in… what the hell did he claim again?”

“That he shot me in self-defense after I killed Aiden and Mom.”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Nicole shoots her a look. “You aren’t helping.”

“I know,” Waverly sighs, getting up and going over to her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Just… I’m better than him, aren’t I?”

Waverly pauses, then pulls Nicole into a tight hug. She strokes the back of Nicole’s neck and whispers, “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

 

The nightmares get worse throughout jury deliberation, and Waverly can’t do anything to stop them.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” Nicole says, rubbing at the bags under her eyes. “You can’t rest like this. I won’t do this to you.”

“You’re still healing, Nicole,” Waverly says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But-”

Waverly silences her with a hand over her mouth. “Hush.”

She inflates an air mattress next to their bed and, after a bit more arguing, settles down on it for the night.

“I don’t want you to be alone, Nicole. You shouldn’t have to be alone.” Waverly reaches up and gently plays with Nicole’s fingers. “Goodnight.”

 

The guilty verdict for Jason Haught was to be expected.

It still made Nicole and Hayley Haught break down into tears.

 

“Are you wearing rollerblades?” Waverly jokes as Nicole catches up to her on their daily run.

“Heeleys,” Nicole deadpans.

“I wouldn’t be shocked.”

“Can you do me another favor?”

“I’ve told you,” Waverly says. “I’ll do anything for you.”

 

 

The cemetery is quieter than it was when Waverly was there for the funerals.

Nicole likes it better this way.

She leads Waverly, hand in hand, to the side by side tombstones resting in the damp green grass.

“They wanted me to help,” Nicole whispers. “They wanted me to help, and I’m the only one still alive.”

“You have to believe that this wasn’t your-”

“I know.” Nicole gives her a crooked grin, tears glistening in her brown eyes. “If you’ve given me anything these past few months, it’s the knowledge that my father did this. Not me.”

“I knew you’d manage,” Waverly replies. She gives a soft grin, reaching up to stroke Nicole’s face. “I’ve never taken you for a quitter.”

Nicole rests her hand on top of her mother’s stone. “None of us were.”

She puts her hand around Waverly’s shoulders and kisses her on the side of the head.

Then they just stand there in silence, listening to the graves.


End file.
